


At the End of All Creation

by Regency



Category: 28 Days Later (2002), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Basically zombies even if technically..., M/M, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency
Summary: AU. Eggsy wakes to a world gone mad as the Rage Virus takes England by storm and turns fair London into a battleground between the living and the fighting dead. With only the mysterious voice, Galahad, on the phone to guide him, Eggsy must traverse London’s infection-ravaged streets to reach safety and keep his baby sister alive in the process.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kingsman Reel 2016 (I). For this one, I chose to pay homage to 28 Days Later (2002). You should watch it. It’s got great atmosphere (listen to In the House, In a Heartbeat by John Murphy from the soundtrack) and their twist on the classic zombie trope is dope in my honest opinion. I’ve been obsessed for years. [I did not finish in time for posting, but I thought I'd post this anyway.]
> 
>  
> 
> **Okay, so I accidentally posted without meaning to (don't judge, I meant to click Save Without Posting) and I would just delete but somebody's already replied and they were hella nice so.**

Galahad directs Eggsy down an open street lined with abandoned and overturned vehicles. Dozens of stores stand shoulder to shoulder on either side of the road. Yellowed bulbs still burn in lamps outside a few while others stand dark and forbidding, silent but for the chilling rasp of something _breathing_  somewhere in their depths.  Eggsy tries to hold his breath lest they hear him just as loudly and come running.

He picks through debris littering the pavement. Bolts of thick, expensive fabric torn to shreds and smashed glass display cases in pieces. Hats of all sorts. Top hats, trilbys, page boys like he saw in Newsies. A fedora somebody placed carefully over the head of a body on the ground.  It’s just one of some fifteen Eggsy can see laid out in blood-soaked piles of flesh and bone amid the smoking shells of Bimmers and Jaguars, some whose headlights still pierce the dense shadows, some whose hazard lights blink on, indicating nothing and warning too late.  He can’t guess how many bodies sit trapped inside locked cars, self-imposed prisoners of their own fate. Nowhere left to go, nothing left to do but die; might as well die by their own rules.  Eggsy keeps well away from open doors and lowered windows.  Getting bit after coming this far would be the end of him and Daisy, both.

Galahad’s smooth voice intrudes on Eggsy’s cautious tread down deserted Savile Row.   “Five-plus bogies closing in from your left flank. Pick up speed.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Eggsy falls back into his marine training at the first sign of respectable authority and Galahad’s about the most respectable he’s heard in years.

“Unoccupied storefront ahead, three–count them, three–doors from your current position. Name’s Locke & Co. A haberdasher. Reinforced security fencing on the display window. The door is modestly secured. Kick it open.”

“You serious?”

“Don’t question me, _go_!”

Eggsy rears back, one arm hugging Daisy to his chest, and slams his heel against the door beneath the lock. The locked door yields with a laborious clunk and Eggsy wastes no time launching himself into the darkness and slamming it shut behind him—right in the faces of his howling pursuers. Their snarls grow loud and desperate, like they can sense he’s moving out of reach ; they beat themselves against the windows like human battering rams, splattering gore from their howling mouths as they chomp uselessly at the steel and glass. They can see Eggsy. Eggsy can see them.

The security barricade covering the display window shudders under the weight of them. Eggsy slams every dead bolt he can find in place. There are just a couple. _Must not get much crime on Savile Row._ He shudders as the monsters stare him down. Not an ounce of humanity remains, only anger and hunger. Fury that can’t be quenched with anything less than destruction.   _What the fuck did this?_

“Galahad, what do I do? Tell me what to do!” He’s scared. Fuck he’s scared. Galahad’s the only friendly voice out there. The only person he’s seen or heard alive since he left his mum behind. “Galahad, please.”

The sneering growls of his pursuers rise to a fever pitch. He can see them pouring from the other shops at the first sign of noise. Noise usually means living prey. _Or a fresh kill._  Eggsy knows the difference is a matter of seconds. He can’t slow down to rest. He has to keep running for as long as he can. 

“Get on the floor and crawl toward the rear of the store. I’m patched into their internal CCTV network, but it isn’t top-notch or terribly modern. I don’t have infrared or night vision. I expect you’ll be able to sense any threat before I can, so we’re going to have to rely on you to get the two of you to safety. Listen to your surroundings, _quietly_. They’re hunting.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me on Tumblr at [sententiousandbellicose](http://sententiousandbellicose.tumblr.com).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, settings, or plot lines recognizable as being from Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014) or 28 Days Later (2002). They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.


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